Chapter 38.1: A Captain of the Vigil

“That is quite the story,” Gelwin mused. He sat in nearly the same place and posture throughout their telling.

Penny barked a wry laugh. Standing there in the dark, gray tent, with more light coming from a shoddy candelabra than from the sun outside the thick canvas, the four of them had just conveyed the entirety of their story to the man—with some selective omissions Penny was grateful for again. Behind them stood a tower of a norn, hunched along the arched ceiling, who seemed wrapped by every detail, as well as Crusader Jindel, who’d heard it all before but seemed no less captivated. And yet, the Vigil captain across the softwood table hardly even changed postures in his seat. They’d told him that his asura neighbors at Thaumacore had released a monster on his troops, the same people were researching the weaponization of magic that could destroy a person’s mind, and there was reason to believe one of his friends was in their sights. And this was all he could say?

“Quite the story?” she repeated back to him, still snickering mirthlessly. “It’s a hell of a lot more than that.”

“To be sure. I don’t mean to diminish it. It’s just a lot to take in from a group of strangers.” The man leaned back in his chair. It was the most he’d moved since they’d started talking to him.

Gelwin steepled his fingers in front of him and glanced at the sylvari woman who stood at his shoulder. Gray lips matched her pallid, gray complexion. Whether she looked dead or only made of stone, it was still a bit of a surprise whenever those lips moved. “The fact remains,” she said flatly. “The Sergeant hasn’t checked in since his departure in mid-Zephyr. He is not here.”

“Sir,” Jindel broke in, taking a half-step forward. “You see how that’s a problem, right? If he’s not here—”

“Yes, Crusader, of course I do, but all we know for certain is that he left Rata Sum nine days ago, your friends didn’t encounter him on their journey, and he isn’t here at the camp. That leaves us most of a thousand-square-mile swath of possible locations where he and the Scholar might be.” Raising a brow, he met the soldier’s gaze more intently.

“Except,” Jinkke broke in, “that the Priory team at Mirkrise had seen him just two days before our arrival there. He and the scholar made it at least that far.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Gelwin agreed thoughtfully. “I forgot that note.”

Squeezing an arm past Jinkke and attempting to peek between her and Minkus, Wepp held up a finger. “And let’s not fail to recall our likely limited timeframe. If Kikka has already reached the two travelers, she will waste no time in making your Sergeant suffer—in a most useful manner.” 

“Sir, aside from these people’s tale,” the sylvari lieutenant groaned, “we have no evidence of any of this, and we are still talking about a potential search radius of hundreds of square miles. We don’t have the manpower to accomplish that and defend this position.”

Penny looked around, surprised how few rebuttals she was hearing from the mouths of her asura companions—they had rebuttals for everything!

She glared at the sylvari. “Look, Leafy-Greens, weren’t you listening when we told you exactly where Kikka set up shop? You all made it sound like you knew the place, so what’s left to search for? Just go to this Thaumacore.”

The lieutenant locked her attention on Penny, who returned her gaze firmly despite the tremor that ran up her spine. She’d noticed the sylvari’s pure-black eyes before, but they took on a new, even darker cast, being fixed on her. “If you’re correct,” she said, stressing the qualifier, “that only complicates things further, though I’d gladly take any opportunity to run a batallion right through their front door.”

“Calm yourself, Lieutenant Liæthsidhe.” Captain Gelwin stroked his tightly groomed beard, turning his attention from the officer at his side. He stared hard into the table. “It’s possible this could give the Vigil justification for striking back at the Inquest, instead of always being on the defensive.” He shook his head. “But command will never let it be without the clearance of the Arcane Council.”

“That’s a lost cause,” Liæthsidhe agreed, biting off the words. It drew a hard glance from her superior, a glance that seemed to have little impact on her.

Silence descended on the tent again as the man considered everything.

Not far behind her, an almost thunderous voice broke that silence, making Penny jump out of her skin. It was, of course, the norn, who’d remained so quiet to that point, she’d forgotten he was there.

“Sir,” Fjornsson rumbled, “what about that fire the western guards saw two days back? Did we ever scout it?”

“No, Crusader, we did not.”

Laying her writing pad on the table that separated the two officers from everyone else, the sylvari crossed her arms. “I’m sure you of all people remember that Captain Gelwin deemed scouting parties into the moors an unnecessary risk, unless absolutely necessary.”

The norn’s voice went dark, though it retained a modicum of respect. “By Bear, Ma’am, I absolutely remember that order—I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forget what led to it.” He glared down at her, looming larger and longer in the confined space before once more addressing Gelwin. He softened then, almost pleading. “But, Sir, Ardiva said that smoke looked a lot like a beacon pire. That seems important, especially now, with all this.”

Remaining cool as her petaled skin, the sylvari rebutted, now addressing their captain as well. “We don’t have the troop presence to investigate every curious happening out there in the moors. Sir, our primary mission is—”

“Lieutenant,” the captain interrupted, waving her down, “Crusader Fjornsson has a point.” He looked back at the norn, actually stooping to fit inside the tent. Gelwin massaged his chin thoughtfully again. “Crusader Ardiva reported the very same thing to me, and I fell back on the need to conserve our dwindling resources.” He sighed. “I may have been wrong.”

The sylvari stood tight-lipped at her commander’s side. Penny couldn’t tell exactly who her cold temper was directed at, but it seemed clear that the angrier this sun-starved thorn bush got, the colder and more focused she became.

“Honestly,” Gelwin went on, almost muttering to himself, “it does sound like Ventyr to do something like that if he were in trouble. Merciful gods, it does.”

At last, his collected expression broke, and creases formed in his brow, all the way up to his graying hairline. “Liæthsidhe,” he instructed, “Send a party, led by Crusader Ardiva, toward the area they’d seen that fire burning. She’ll have the best idea what they’re scouting for and where to find it.”

The lieutenant’s implacable face responded even before her mouth did, both laden with indignation. “Sir, with all due respect, what would they be looking for?”

“You mean beside Sergeant Ventyr?” Still seated, the human shifted to set himself more squarely before the sylvari woman at his elbow. He met her gaze evenly, breaking eye contact for only a momentary glance at Wepp. “If we’re too late, as this gentleman here fears, then they’re looking for clues as to where we find him.”

There was a dull cracking behind Penny. She looked back to find the norn popping a fistful of knuckles, one giant hand wrapped inside the other. He bore gritted teeth and a murderous air, and Penny took a step to the side. Figuratively or otherwise, Penny had no interest in standing between a norn and any fight one might have a stake in. And this one had a stake in something here.

Stiffly, Lieutenant Liæthsidhe reached to collect her pad from the weathered table, adjusted the belt at her waist, and swept her leather skirt straight. Through tight lips, she acknowledged the order and strode past the group amassed at the tent flap. Each of them moved aside as she pressed through and out into the fading sunlight. Once more, silence hung for a moment.

“Wow,” Penny murmured, “that one’s a real charmer.” Jinkke shot her a corrective glance.

“She’s just concerned for the crusaders in our charge.” The man at the table looked straight at Penny as he said it. “Liæthsidhe is a good officer. Stern to a fault but committed to the cause.”

Gelwin shook his head, scratching at an arm rest as he scanned the party again. “That’s neither here nor there, though. While she does her duty, please illuminate me on this defense of yours.”

With a brief exchange of glances between them all, they obliged as concisely and confidently as they could. Jinkke, of course, took the lead, with Wepp correcting any and every overly confident assertions she made. Penny just let the two of them have it, only stepping in to translate when it was clear their rapid and overly asuran explanations had shot right past the man.

After a particularly lengthy interpretation of Jinkke’s jargon-filled lesson on essence reconfiguration, Penny almost had to catch her breath—gods, was she starting to talk as fast as the asura did?  As she did, she caught Minkus’ eyes on her. Penny cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, smiled proudly, and returned his attention to the discussion still going on across the table.

Penny rolled her eyes. She just wanted this conversation to be over so she could get back to work on something she could actually control, instead of rehashing all the dangers this guy was on about. Gods, she wanted him to let them go.

Shaking her head, Penny came back to their conversation as Captain Gelwin interrupted another of Wepp’s clarifications with one of his own. He leaned forward, openly frowning. “Are you saying you haven’t tested this device?” he asked incredulously.

Wepp stopped, visibly thrown off his train of thought by the interruption. “Well, no, technically we have not. The calculations point to a fairly likely success, of course, but we do have another component to configure before a test is even feasible with the proxy essence.”

The man’s eyes widened further. “Proxy essence?”

“Oh, my apologies,” Wepp replied. “You see, a proxy is a sort of substitute for—”

“Yes, Mr. Wepp.” The man across the table sighed. “I know what a proxy is.”

Rubbing the top of his head nervously, Wepp went on to explain the situation, looking to Jinkke for help as he went. Together they explained their limited supply of Seer essence and the problem it posed in testing the functionality of the projector, a step in the process they were admittedly on the cusp of. Penny didn’t know how aware they all were of the captain’s face—it was stunning the things that asura could miss—but she could tell he was less and less hopeful about what they offered with each passing word.

“Forgive me for my brusqueness,” the man finally broke in, stopping Wepp even as he spoke. Gelwin leaned stiffly forward, elbows to the table as he locked eyes with Wepp. “I’m about to send men into an area we’ve purposely avoided for the very threats you claimed this device counteracts.” He widened his gaze, letting it brush across them all. “I will do so for Sergeant Ventyr regardless of your confidence in this device. And for telling me of his likely need, I am genuinely grateful to you all. But at present, the simple truth is that your machine provides neither us nor you any real defense at all.”

Wepp, who’d moved to the front of the pack, took a jarred step back, bumping into Minkus, who then bumped back into Valliford. Penny exchanged uncomfortable looks with Jinkke and Minkus: one recognizing instantly the truth in the vigil officer’s words and the other still parsing through it all in his mind.

“Perhaps it can be something useful,” Gelwin went on, sliding his chair back across the canvas floor and standing to his feet. The lines in his forehead were abating as he pushed the chair gently back to the edge of the table. “But I suggest you get to work finishing it. I’ve seen what that agony magic can do, and I wouldn’t wish it on you.”

On you. Penny recognized the man’s phrasing and gritted her teeth. He hadn’t said us; he’d said you.

“Crusader Jindel,” Gelwin continued, looking specifically to his soldier, “go see if Tekki can give them a place to work in one of the Metamagicals research stations. Then return to your current post.” She nodded, saluting as the man stepped around them and toward the tent flap.

Minkus cleared his throat, which drew everyone’s attention to him. The oversized asura blushed but still spoke up, looking to the man halfway out the tent. “Will you— would you please let us know what your people find out there?”

Captain Gelwin nodded respectfully. “Of course. The very moment they return. At the very least, you’ve all earned that much.”

With a gesture to Fjornsson, the man stepped out of the tent. The norn squeezed himself through the flap as well, though not without a glance back at the other crusader. It was one of gratitude.

Penny hadn’t been aware of the tension building up throughout their conversation, but now it was leaking out of the tent on the heels of the officer and his gigantic trooper. It left a curious void behind it: discomfort and relief all churned up together in the silence within those canvas walls. For once, Minkus didn’t look the most uncomfortable among them; everyone wore that awkwardness.

Penny grimaced, flicking the flap of a hip pouch open and shut a few times, replaying the conversation in her mind. She didn’t really know how she’d imagined the conversation going, but it wasn’t like that. The man wasn’t wrong, though. They had never turned the thing on, and until they did, they could never really say they had a response to the threat these soldiers were all so afraid of.

A threat soldiers were afraid of. The notion sent a chill up Penny’s spine.

Soldiers were the people too brave to pay attention to things like wisdom or safety; they ran off to play hero while smarter people kept their heads down and held on to what little corners of the world they had. Gods, when Vigil soldiers took pause at something, a person had to ask herself what the hell she was doing.

Ippi came back to mind. That was, after all, what Penny was doing; she was there to take payment out of Kikka’s hide—for Ippi, for herself, and for every last thing she’d ruined over the last season.

In spite of her recollection, a sigh escaped Penny’s lips. She couldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t. They had a project to finish.

“Penny?” Minkus’ voice and a gentle touch on her arm called her back out of her thoughts. He was half a step toward the flap, and everyone else was already outside. “Are you coming?” he asked.

“Yeah— sure. Right behind you.” She stumbled back around and out of the vacant tent.